Speechless
by guineamania
Summary: The barricades are left abandoned and for once most live! But the National Guards want sadistic revenge on the amis. And they find Grantaire - what follows isn't good! WARNING: This is not for the faint hearted! Contains: knifeplay, none descriptive rape and elecro-magnetic sex, general abuse! Do Not Read if you are disgusted by any of those things! You have been warned!
1. Chapter 1

_**13/6/13**_

**Hey, right then! This is a fanfiction that I have had the first section written for a long time now. But it was always missing something, just little details but it was just not right without them. But the fanfiction "A View From The Barricade" by ****soldurios ****on LiveJournal helped me find the two things that were missing from it. Go read, it is gruesome but amazingly written! And I thank her for her help!**

**WARNING:**** This is not for the faint hearted! Contains: electro-magnetic sex, knifeplay, none descriptive rape, general abuse, fireplay! Do Not Read if you are disgusted by any of those things! You have been warned!**

**Also Pre-established e/R!**

**Speechless**

**Chapter 1**

The back of the Musain had been blown open and the seriously outnumbered students were making a hasty retreat. Jehan was running with Marius hobbling along next to him. Courfeyrac was bleeding severely from the head and was hung suspended between Joly and Bossuet. The last to leave were Enjolras and Combeferre. Enjolras did not want to leave his barricade. It was cowardly to retreat and no one in their right mind would ever call Julien Enjolras cowardly. Or they would face his wrath. But yet he was a sensible man; what was the point in them all sticking around to die. They would be better running then regrouping to strike against the oppression another day. Feuily and Bahorel hadn't made it. They had both perished at the hands of the National Guard and Enjolras' heart was filled with remorse. He knew people were going to die in this attack; everyone knew that there might be a chance that they would not get out of this street alive. Enjolras just prayed that they would; and it seemed his prayers had been answered, to a certain extent.

Enjolras sat stoically as Combeferre patched up his wounds. He hadn't been seriously injured but the bruises and little cuts still needed care to stop them becoming infected. His mind carried on whirring away at how they could improve the barricade; and how long they should wait before striking again. He didn't even notice as Combeferre moved on to help more pressing patients as more injured revolutionaries filtered into their hidden base underneath the Corinth. Enjolras then looked around at all his friends that had survived. Combeferre and Joly were running around the room treating people. Courfeyrac was sat up with the whole of his head strapped up but he seemed his usual self. Marius was laid in his Cossette's arms; she had come into the Cornith as soon as she knew her lover was alive but injured. Bossuet was trying unsuccessfully to help and Combeferre currently had him handing out water with Jehan. However, Enjolras could feel something missing, something important to him. Eventually he just presumed it was Feuily and Bahorel that were gone; but it took Jehan to notice for him.

"R? Grantaire! Does anyone know where Grantaire is?" Jehan cried out from the centre of the room. Panic and concern were evident on his face as he hunted desperately for his best friend. Enjolras jumped up instantly, and joined Jehan in searching for his love. He cursed himself for forgetting about the winecask in the mad frenzy. He was nowhere to be seen.

XXX

All Grantaire could remember was clambering to the top of the barricade to help Enjolras. Then a bang; then it all went dark. Grantaire inched open his eyes but all remained a deathly black. Was he dead? Was this some sort of hell? He could still smell the gun smoke surrounding him and the clang of muskets. He tried to turn his head but his neck was pinned in place. Was he trapped? That had to be it; the barricade must have fallen on him when he climbed it. Grantaire struggled trying to move his neck and arms, when a shot of pain fired through his shoulder. He cried out in agony but was instantly silenced with an amused chuckle. "So our little revolutionary is awake, boys," a man chuckled and the blindfold was ripped off his face. Five national guardsmen stood before him in their tattered blood coated uniforms, none of it their own blood. Their muskets and hats discarded in a pile and them all hanging about casually, looking at Grantaire.

He looked around with the minimal movement of his neck and examined his situation. He was most certainly a prisoner. The barricade was silent so either, everyone else was dead or they had got away. He prayed his friends had escaped, unlike him. Grantaire found himself tied to their mighty barricade; his arms and legs spread and his neck pinned behind a wedged floor board. Blood trickled, like a small stream, down his arm from a gaping hole in the centre of his shoulder. "Your friends have left you little boy. All ran off without a thought to where you were," the head of this little group laughed, forcing Grantaire to look him in the eye. "And the boss says that any traitors we catch, we can do whatever we want to," he grinned menacingly and it took all Grantaire's self-control to keep the panic off his face. He knew what men like this did to people and needless to say, it was never pleasant.

Silent tears streamed down his face as the monarchist brute pressed himself into Grantaire once again. He could feel his body wanting to respond to the basic need but he couldn't. This had been going on for what felt like hours to the victim as what remained of his already dented dignity was torn to shreds. But he couldn't react; to react would give them all they wanted and crush him once and for all. "He doesn't seem to like this, lads," the thug sighed as he pulled himself out once again and Grantaire's body collapsed against his bonds. His eyes began to flicker shut from pure exhaustion when the guard pressed his fingers into Grantaire's wound, sending agony though out his body and making him spasm against the restraints again. He let out a blood curdling scream; he couldn't keep it in anymore. The scream slowly died down to be replaced by laughing from all the men. "You're such a sad bastard," one of the other men laughed and everyone chuckled along. Grantaire panted and whimpered in the residual pain and at the loss of his pride.

"Oh be quiet!" one of the men moaned when they were on a torture break. Grantaire was still whimpering in pain and had now resorted to softly begging to be released. He couldn't take it anymore; he would do anything to be let go free. But the men showed no intention of letting him do that. "Can we shut him up boss?" another man asked, wielding a strip of cloth off a dead revolutionary's jacket.

"Nah what would be the fun in gagging him?" the boss stated standing up and prowling towards Grantaire. "We won't be able to hear his screams anymore," he chuckled and the rest of the men nodded in agreement. The leader pulled out the largest and most menacing pair of scissors Grantaire had ever laid eyes on. "I have a much better and much more painful way," he smirked stepping forwards. Grantaire tried to pull on his final reserves of energy to get away; he knew what they were going to do. Yet his muscles betrayed him and he was left helpless in front of that maniac. "One of you hold his mouth open and stop his head tilting back!" the boss shouted and there was practically a fight to decide who got the honour. Grantaire tossed his weak head around but the man's grip was too strong as his mouth was wrenched open and held firmly in place. The scissors were pressed into his mouth and almost instantly the agony blazed through his skull like a forest fire. He tried to scream but the blood was filling his mouth too quickly. The thug threw Grantaire's head forward and the blood flowed from his mouth all over the rest of his clothes to mingle which all the blood he was already coated in. The last thing his remembered before it all went dark was a bundle of bandages being thrust into his mouth to stem the bleeding.

XXX

"But we need to go find him!" Jehan screamed, fighting against Combeferre's grip.

"Jean! Please calm down. There is no use going back," Marius hobbled over, speaking softly.

"More of us will get killed or caught, and … it is exceedingly doubtful we will find anything more than another body," Combeferre sighed, holding the weeping Jehan to his chest.

"But, but … he was one of us," Jehan sobbed onto Combeferre's shirt as the room fell into a troubled silence.

"He's gone Jehan,"Combeferre whispered into his golden brown locks and the room remained silent as if in mourning for their fallen comrade. Jehan sat with silent tears streaming down his face as Cosette tried to comfort his broken soul. Enjolras sat staring at the floor. Things hadn't ended well between the drunkard and the revolutionary and he genuinely regretted the things he had said. _If you can hear me now R … then I am sorry. I really am and I am so sorry I never had the courage to say this when you were around. I-I am so pleased that you helped us, that you woke up to fight amongst your friends. We'll miss you winecask … And I still love you! I didn't mean any of it! … Goodbye Nicolas_ Enjolras thought, staring up at the ceiling with a heart full of remorse. Tear streamed silently down his cheeks.

XXX

When Grantaire awoke again his mouth throbbed; it took a few seconds before he remembered what had happened. He slowly and cautiously tried to move his tongue and let out a sob when only a stump moved in the back of his mouth. "We fixed it up for you and stopped the bleeding," the leader stated bluntly. He found himself facing the barricade this time which his bare back exposed to the men. Tears continued to stream down his face as he tried unsuccessfully to form words in his mouth. "Now my friends here are bored … you have not been screaming enough lately for them," he chuckled menacingly as Grantaire struggled against the overly tight bonds. He pulled away we fear glimmering through in his eyes as heard a knife was drawn out of the guard's sheath and the other four of the crowd heckled him on. "How about we send a little message to your friends when they find you, if they find you," the man chuckled as he dug the knife into the top of Grantaire's back. The drunkard froze in place, scared to move in case it did more damage that it was going to do anyway. Silent sobs wracked though his body and he let out another scream as the knife was dragged down and around tearing the skin and muscle causing more of his vital crimson liquor to drip on the blood stained ground. The next few minutes passed in a blur of pain and screams until the knife was drawn out of his back for the final time.

He could hear the men talking behind his back but their words were just a blur to his pain dulled senses. He just wanted it to end. He wanted to die. He was jolted out of his poisonous thoughts by and over round of screaming pain. Boiling alcohol was thrown all over his back and burned in the rivets that the knife had left. "Now our message will be there forever," one of the men whispered in his ear as they untied him and spun him round so he was facing them again and his burning back was scraped and podded by various pieces of furniture which just intensified the pain tenfold. He screamed out and his eyes squeezed shut with tears forcing their way out from under the closed lids. He was retied to the former symbol of hope and stripped back down naked again. "We don't have much time before your friends dare to return here for their dead," the leader stated and one of the other guardsmen stepped forwards undoing his belt. Grantaire winced before letting his body fall slack against the restraints. His head was forced backwards by the man's brutal fingers in his hair and Grantaire just squeezed his eyes shut even further as the man prised his mouth open and thrust into it. He wanted to bite, to put up so sort of resilience; but the fight had left him, every spark had been battered out of him and his soul smashed into thousands of pieces.

It felt as if it went on and on and on but Grantaire's mind was just a blank until the damnable object was removed. But his respite was only short as a long sleek object was shoved inside him from behind and he screeched in pain once more. His muscles still remained slack on his head rolled forwards; he had truly given up. "Seen as though you didn't seem to enjoy our little fun earlier with me," the leader chuckled and pressed a button on the end of the tube. Grantaire instantly knew what it was, he had heard about them, set a bolt of charge through you and made you react in unsavoury ways. His head shot up in pure fear with his eyes showing pure despair. The charge tore through his body and burnt though his mind, provoking him. Grantaire had stopped fighting with his whole body as the unwanted orgasm destroyed what was left of his pride along with the cackles of the men. But Grantaire just didn't care anymore; he didn't protest, he didn't fight the latest thug as he ran his hands down Grantaire's abused back and shoved his tongue down the broken man's throat. "How about we have a deal, traitor?" the leader chuckled when Grantaire was released. At that point in time, Grantaire would do anything for a respite to this agonising pain. He had no dignity remaining, nothing to lose anymore.

"We stop hurting you in such bad ways if you humour us, and we'll untie you," the man suggested and Grantaire nodded slowly, ignoring how the world spun. He thumped to the floor once his bonds were untied and was passed a tattered and torn pair of trousers. It took him a long time and his mind swam with pain before he pulled them on; the men were laughing all the way through. They were all sat on cannons and rocks around a fire. Grantaire needed the warmth; his muscles were involuntarily twitching from the cold night air. "Come here!" the leader ordered and Grantaire slowly crawled towards the men, ignoring their cackles, scraping his knees raw as he went. He never looked up, his head hung low in shame and defeat.

"Who's a good little dog," one of them teased ruffling Grantaire's hair as he crawled past in absolute agony. He was just a shell now, and somehow his mind had decided he was unworthy; decided that maybe he deserved to be ordered around like a slave or a pet. He was like a dog, he had that much pride. He stopped and knelt with his head dropping in front of the guardsman. That was all he deserved now.

"You will listen to every order we give you," the leader commanded as he clicked a spiked collar tightly round Grantaire's neck and pulled on the chain attached, to lift up Grantaire's drooping head. He let the chain go slack and offhanded shooed Grantaire's hunched form away. Grantaire sat their confused until his new master kicked his bruised ribs. "Go rest Rover," he ordered as Grantaire shuffled away and curled up by the fire.

Grantaire became a sex toy the next day. He was passed around the five men to satisfy their lusts without even a murmur of complaint. His mind was dull and his senses broken. Nothing mattered anymore, even when he was whipped he hardly felt the addition to the pain. He wasn't only used for sex; entertainment was sometimes needed. Making him kneel on the raging fire was another one of their favourite tricks, the skin on his skins was slowly peeling off but not once did he cry out anymore. "But boss! Can't we take him with us? No one else on the squad will have a fully trained revolutionary," one of the men whined and Grantaire's ears perked up in confusion. They were leaving.

"No you cannot take him. And his friends will be returning soon. Leave him here it will send a message to crush any hope they had of another revolution," the leader chuckled and the rest of the men laughed.

"Can I just have one more go with him then?" the man asked with a sigh.

"All right then," the leader compromised as he was packing up their supplies. Grantaire instantly crawled to the makeshift bed as soon as the chain was passed over. One more time; that was all.

As soon as the man was finished the chain attached to Grantaire was passed over to the leader and instantly shortened. An alcove in the barricade was open and Grantaire was pulled over to it. "Get in there!" the leader ordered harshly and Grantaire slowly climbed up and sat in the too small hole. He had to lie on his side to fit in. His chain was tied tightly around an outcrop so he couldn't move. A little paper sign was hung round his neck and he received a little pat to the head before the leader stepped back. A thick wooden table was wedged in the hole and he was submerged into pitch black darkness.

XXX

The amis had finally recovered enough to brave approaching the barricade to collect the dead. Enjolras and Combeferre led the way as the leaders followed by Jehan and Bossuet. Courfeyrac and Marius were not well enough to come and Joly had volunteered to keep watch for them. The barricade was eerily silent. It still stood looming over the surrounding landscape and it reeked of death and decay. Jehan and Enjolras carried Bahorel's body and wrapped it up laying it inside the Musain. Feuily's body soon followed along with other students that fought with them. Combeferre climbed the barricade and jumped the other side looking for any off their dead. But instead his notice a giant table with a big white cross drawn onto it. They didn't do that; X marks the spot. Combeferre carefully pulled it down and let out a choked sob at what he saw. Grantaire's battered and bruised half naked body lay chained to a post. Tears sprang too his eyes as he stood there, mouth agape. However he hurriedly wiped then away when he spotted the shallow rise and fall of Grantaire's chest. "Ferre? Are you alright down there?" Enjolras shouted from the top and Combeferre flinched. No one could see Grantaire until Combeferre had cleaned him up slightly.

"I'm fine, don't come down. I need you and Jehan to go back to the Corinth and tell Joly to clear a private table and gather all the medical supplies we have!" he shouted.

"Why? What's wrong Ferre?" Jehan asked poking his head over the top.

"I've found Grantaire, and he's alive," Combeferre stated.


	2. Chapter 2

_**1/7/13**_

**Ok, all the horrible stuff is out of the way in the first chapter … but the emotional still remains. I will warn you at the being of the chapter if anything horrifying will happen! In this though, you do get a detailed description of Grantaire's wounds.**

**Chapter 2**

"I need to see him!" Jehan grinned about to dive over and Enjolras was beating him to it. He needed to see his love.

"No!" Combeferre shouted hurriedly. "You need to go warn Joly and send Bossuet down or he won't be alive much longer!" he exclaimed and both heads disappeared instantly. Bossuet appeared soon after jumped down. Combeferre grabbed the medical supplies. "You are fine with blood aren't you?" Combeferre checked and Bossuet nodded. "And shocking things won't distract you?" Combeferre checked and Bossuet nodded solemnly again. Combeferre had got the collar off and hidden it in the barricade. That could stay between the two of them. Combeferre lead Bossuet over and he couldn't supress the gasp of shock and horror. A sign reading: Free to a good home. Obedient and very useful; hung round his neck and Combeferre hurriedly pulled it off. "I need your help to carefully lift him out of there without bringing the whole thing down on us," Combeferre stated and they set to work. It took a while to prise the unconscious man out of the crack and thankfully nothing came down around them. Combeferre lay him on the stretcher type thing that they had been carrying the dead on and immediately set to work. His shoulder was clearly the worst, an infection was setting in and the skin was unable to heal it's self in these conditions. Thankfully the bullet had gone straight through or else, he wouldn't have been able to save the arm. He cleaned it, ignoring the unconscious spasms from Grantaire every time he touched it.

His right leg was broken and hung limply; Grantaire had been obviously moving around on it and the bone had worn. He could set it, but it would never heal right. Combeferre straightened it up and splinted it slightly. Grantaire still didn't stir. Every few seconds Combeferre checked for his heartbeat and let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. It was only a few minutes before Grantaire was fit to travel. Combeferre had cleaned as much of the blood and dirt off Grantaire's limp body as he could so the pale almost corpse was not as horrifying. "Bossuet, I need you to help me carry him back to the Corinth," he stated stoically as he draped a white cloth over Grantaire's body. His breath stopped as he saw the lump under the white cloth. Grantaire wasn't dead but until he got to the Corinth, he had to pretend that was so. It pained Combeferre and Bossuet as they took to the backstreets carrying the stretcher.

XXX

Enjolras and Jehan had run as fast as their legs would carry them back to the Cornith. Grantaire's fate rested in how prepared Joly was, therefore Grantaire's fate rested on how fast the two revolutionaries could run. They were not leaving anything to chance. _Forgive me R, don't die now … I love you!_ Enjolras thought desperately, almost in tears as he ran. They both skidded into the underground room and were met with the shocked eyes or the other core amis. "R … alive … Combeferre … private room," Enjolras gasped as he tried to recover his breath. Jehan nodded along behind him, also unable to speak from the exertion. Thankfully Joly understood the mad ravings and set to work with an amazing speed. Enjolras and Jehan tried to help in a frenzy but eventually Joly got fed up with their persistent pestering and kicked them out to watch for Bossuet and Combeferre arriving. Enjolras was trying to stay strong like he always swore he would do but he found himself trembling. He couldn't lose Grantaire; he couldn't lose any more of them. He was willing to die for the cause but he did not what to drag his friends into inevitable death. Bahorel and Feuilly's blood already stained his hands and he could not bear for anymore to be added to the list.

Enjolras heard Jehan cry out in pure despair and instantly looked up. Combeferre and Bossuet were carrying Grantaire's limp body on a stretcher. They had lost the sheet as they neared the Corinth as not to give the wrong impression to the waiting men but Grantaire was not a pretty sight right now. Cossette had heard the cry and run out the front to see what the commotion was about; tears were streaming down Jehan's face and Enjolras had turned a deathly shade of white. Instantly, her sense kicked in and she pulled the two dumbstruck men away from the approaching stretcher. She took them upstairs and made them coffee. Jehan was still sobbing uncontrollably but Enjolras looked as if he was in shock. He just stared straight ahead with a shocked look planted on his face, not responding to anyone. She held him close and he snuggled into her shoulder, secretly needing the comfort their newest recruit brought.

Combeferre and Bossuet brought Grantaire in as he slowly returned to consciousness. Joly froze in shock for a few seconds before doctor mode obviously kicked in. Combeferre was still incredibly shaken but it would do no one any good to see him break down in a situation like this. The two doctors laid Grantaire on the white tablecloth, trying their best to ignore the scream of agony Grantaire let out through clenched teeth. Combeferre stepped back and took time to survey Grantaire's plethora of injuries. He had a seriously aggravated and infected bullet wound to his left shoulder which Combeferre doubted would even heal properly. He exchanged a look with his fellow doctor that confirmed his suspicions. Grantaire's shins were mutilated with burnt and bloody skin peeling away showing glimmering white bone. His leg was still hanging limply and they needed to set it properly. His entire chest was coated with barbed whip lashes engraved on his skin but the worst damage was on his back. Combeferre and Joly slowly rolled him over and a gasp squeezed its way through Joly's tightly closed lips. The whole Grantaire's back was burnt and blackened apart from the clear red cuts. Combeferre gently ran his fingers along the healing letters. _DAMAGED GOODS!_ Combeferre felt physically sick at the sight and the usually peaceful doctor felt an incredible urge to go shoot the faces in of the people that did this to his friend and his brother's lover. Joly gathered his kit and herbal potions trying to stay calm for everyone else's sake. Bossuet had disappeared upstairs with the others and the two injured men were sleeping in the corner. Combeferre slowly clenched and unclenched his fists to try and calm his racing heart. Grantaire had never been part of their revolutionary group but he was still a great friend and a lively spirit; and no one hurt his friends.

Enjolras squeezed his eyes shut at every cry that was sourced from the floor below. He was squeezing Cosette's hand too tight but the angel of the woman just sat there playing with his hair to try and calm him down. It did help but playing with his hair was Grantaire's special display of affection, which just made him cry even harder. He felt the pain his partner was experiencing and couldn't shut it out. Every cry made him want to run down the stairs and hold his darling close to him. To cradle him and tell him that everything was going to be alright; but it wasn't going to be alright. He couldn't do this anymore; he couldn't let his friends be hurt. He tried to be strong but the tears wouldn't stop flowing down his cheeks; he was always strong, he had to be to lead. But love and loss were new to him. So he cried.

XXX

Grantaire's eyes fluttered open and he saw the familiar ceiling of the Corinth. Two figures loomed over him, cast in an ominous shadow. Their faces flickered between the comforting presence of Joly and Combeferre to the terrifying images of his torturers. His mind was clearly playing tricks on him but were they dreams or nightmares. Every time one of the mysterious figures played with his wounds, he tried to call out for them to stop but all that came were screams. He tried to shout for his Enjolras as the tears poured down his white cheeks; but no one understood, so he never came. His heart stopped as the realisation hit him; his Apollo could be dead on that barricade. All the guards had said were 'his friends' no one had even mentioned Enjolras. Grantaire struggled with all his power, even though there wasn't much left in his drained body, to get away and find his Julien. He needed his Julien; even if it was just a corpse to cradle in his arms. He needed to see his lover's golden curls, blazing blue eyes and marble skin one more time. "Joly! Hold him down, we need to knock him out!" he heard Combeferre shout but that didn't matter anymore, Apollo was all that mattered. Combeferre held the chloroform over his mouth and nose but Grantaire refused to fought and fought until he heard a heavenly voice cry his name. Enjolras stood proudly on the steps with tear tracks staining his perfect cheeks. He was alive. And with this knowledge Grantaire gave in and let the blissful darkness take him.


	3. Chapter 3

_**29/7/13**_

**I'm sorry but I am having some personal issues at the moment … my aunt has died so I am not in the mood as my mind is all over the place. So updates will be few and not as long as usual until I get myself sorted out.**

**Thanks for the reviews guys.**

garnet dark – It doesn't get better for him I'm afraid!

**Chapter 3**

Enjolras stood frozen on the stairs. The only movement on his body were the tears flowing down his cheeks. He was so bad to Grantaire; but he loved him with all his marble heart. Enjolras just couldn't bring himself to show it in the ways Grantaire wished him to. But seeing his lover lying almost dead on the bar table made his emotions pour out in a foreign way. The mighty marble leader visibly cracked under the strain of a disastrous revolution and burst into a torrent of tears. His legs almost buckled before a trembling Jehan took him in his arms. Combeferre and Joly patched him up to the best of their ability, deciding that now was not the time for Enjolras to see the writing on his lover's chest. Thankfully, Grantaire slept on all the way through and continued to rest under the influence of drugs long after they had finished.

When he finally awoke, Grantaire just lay there. He had forgotten what it was like to wake up where he felt safe. He was in the Cornith, a bar he knew so well from times before the barricade. A ball of heat warmed his left hand side and he sought it's comfort timidly as if it would be ripped away if he made a move to touch it himself. Everything hurt, every muscle in his body felt as if it had been ripped apart. But yet Grantaire tore his eyes open and an attempted to regain a sense of normality that would take a long time to reappear. Slowly he inched his head to look at the mysterious heat source, desperately trying to ignore the fire raging down his already burnt spine. Enjolras was the source of heat, diminishing his pain. A small smile flickered on Grantaire's lips as he remembered the night before the barricade arose; when Enjolras finally built up the courage to express his feelings. He had confessed that he had been in love with Grantaire since he first arrived at the meetings, dragged in behind Jehan, but had convinced himself the revolution was worth more than some little crush. However after Marius talking about his darling Cosette, the mighty Apollo decided he didn't want to die without telling Grantaire about his feelings. Now they were alive, just.

Grantaire tenderly tried to move his tongue in the vain hope that Combeferre had worked a miracle and it was back. It wasn't. Suddenly the emotions that he had been holding back poured to the forefront of his mind. It was like a dam had exploded in his mind and he finally had to deal with all that had happened. Tears flooded down his face and his body racked with sobs, causing him more pain. Images flowed along with torrents of feelings; he could not get the laughing image of his abuser to leave his fractured mind alone. The Cornith faded away and he squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to get away. But that just made it worse. The scenes replayed over and over no matter how much he fought against them. Grantaire hated being so weak and wished he could just forget all that had happened since that blasted barricade. He trembled uncontrollably and even though he had no tears left, sobs still filled the air.

Enjolras woke up to Grantaire shaking but it took him a minute or so for his mind to kick into gear. As soon as it did he leapt to action, holding Grantaire close to him. He gently rested Grantaire's head to his heart in an attempt to sooth him; Enjolras had heard that it worked with babies to calm them down. Thankfully he soothed slightly, his fists white from gripping onto Enjolras' shirt. Combeferre awoke and hurriedly darted over. Enjolras was entirely focused on Grantaire; he held his trembling boyfriend to his chest and slowly kissed his sweaty brown curls. "It's going to be alright Nic, you're safe," he soothed as Grantaire's sobs died down slightly. Enjolras rocked him backwards and continued to kiss his head as the cries were reduced to sniffles.  
"R? Can I check you over again?" Combeferre asked softly but was only replied by Grantaire gripping onto Enjolras even tighter. "Jolras can stay if you want him to," he added and smiled when he received a hesitant nod from where Grantaire's face was buried in Enjolras' shirt. Enjolras prised Grantaire off him and sat on the bed with Grantaire laying inside his legs and with the drunkard's head buried into his shirt.

Combeferre set to work examining Grantaire's plethora of wounds. Enjolras didn't want to look, he knew he would break down and he didn't want to put Grantaire through that. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wrench his eyes away from him. Combeferre worked with his usual practiced efficiency as he unwrapped all Grantaire's wounds and checked over them. There was one thing he had forgotten in his routine; Enjolras had not seen Grantaire's wounds in full, especially the horrendous writing on his back. So as he asked Grantaire to roll over and took the padding of the scars, Enjolras failed to hold back a choked and a small sob at the sight. Combeferre had told him the scars were bad but he had never imagined his perfect lover would have been marred in this poisonous way. Grantaire quietly whimpered at Enjolras' response to the words and buried his head further into Enjolras' shirt. The usually marble Apollo almost shattered at the sight; instead he kissed the top of Grantaire's head and softly traced the line with his finger. "You are not damaged Nicolas," he whispered softly. "You are as perfect as you always were and nothing can change that," Enjolras promised and Grantaire softened slightly into his touch.

The rest of the examination progressed without any major hiccups until Combeferre wanted to examine Grantaire's face, eyes and mouth. Grantaire tensed when Combeferre asked and stubbornly refused to move his head away from the safety of Enjoras' shirt. "Come on R, Ferre just wants to look at your face. I'll be right here," Enjolras promised as he tried to gently pull Grantaire off him. The wounded drunkard was still clinging on to Enjolras as if he was a lifeline and shook his head once again. "Whatever it is that is wrong, I won't think any different of you mon amour," he stated, kissing the top of Grantaire's head once again. Finally Grantaire softened and released Enjolras' now crushed shirt from his death grip. Combeferre smiled softly to try and ease his pained expression. He put some cleaned and put some cream on the cuts littering his porcelain face and checked his eyes were responding, everything was fine until he attempted to get Grantaire to open his mouth. They tried for what felt like hours but the other man was not going to give up; Combeferre attempted to hold Grantaire's nose so he would have to open it to breath, he was kicked in the stomach for his troubles. So Enjolras attempted a more unorthodox method. He spontaneously kicked Grantaire on the lips; as expected his mouth opened slightly in shock and after a lot of work, Enjolras prised it open with his tongue. Grantaire was completely oblivious as to what Enjolras was doing until he was released and Combeferre hurriedly slid blocks in his open mouth. Grantaire desperately tried to spit them out but they stayed firm, much to Combeferre's relief; he was still reeling from the previous blow.

As he predicted, Grantaire starting struggling again as soon as Combeferre neared his head. It took Enjolras pinning him down and whispering soothing words into his ear for him to stop kicking Combeferre as soon as he was in reach. Combeferre used a candle to shine a light in Grantaire's mouth. He stared for a moment, then the only noise was a candle clattering to the floor. Enjolras looked up at Combeferre confused to find his brother stood half glaring and half gawping at Grantaire. Grantaire's eyes were screwed shut and looked on the verge of tears once again. Enjolras gently leaned over him a looked in his mouth; this time it was anger that flooded to the top, not tears. Grantaire's mouth was a mess; his tongue was entirely missing and you could clearly see the black thread sewing up the stump. Those bastards had chopped out his tongue; nothing would save them now. "I'm going to kill them," Enjolras growled, and no one doubted that he would.


	4. Chapter 4

_**20/8/13**_

**In this chapter there is a little idea that Rosebud5 and I used in a roleplay together and I thought it fit perfectly so darling I hope you don't mind me incorporating it into here!**

**Chapter 4**

Everyone apart from Enjolras and Combeferre were ushered out of the room as Grantaire lay there trembling. His eyes were squeezed shut, as tight as they could possibly go, and his hands were trembling manically as sobs erupted from his damaged mouth. Enjolras sat on the table with Grantaire's head resting on his lap. "Shush Taire. It's alright darling," Enjolras soothed as Combeferre backed away. Enjolras and Grantaire needed time alone now, Combeferre understood that; but a doctor needed to be there just in case Grantaire's injuries got worse. "I will love you no matter what, whether you can talk or not. I promise," Enjolras soothed, tenderly kissing Grantaire on his temple. Grantaire calmed slightly at the soft touch and gripped onto Enjolras' shirt like a life line holding him to this world. Enjolras softly held his lover's hands and rubbed his fingers over the scraped knuckles. "I won't leave you," he reassured Grantaire as the injured drunkard's pained sobs died down finally. Now that Grantaire was out of immediate danger, the adrenaline fuelling his body dispersed and the exhaustion hit. The revolution had failed … his life's work destroyed. And Grantaire had suffered because of his monumental failure; suffered horrendously.

"You both need to rest," Combeferre murmured from where he was sat with a book resting on his knee. "I'll leave you be and organise the others," he stated.

Enjolras was grateful for Combeferre in this time of despair. His almost brother was always there to help his young and more volatile compatriot and Enjolras had no idea what he would do without him. Combeferre could always keep a level head and was the one out of them that always had a plan and was the rational thinker of the group. Enjolras would never have got this far without him; Enjolras wouldn't be alive without him. "Thank you," Enjolras mumbled quietly and Combeferre smiled weakly.

"I will always be here for you," Combeferre assured him and kissed him on the top of the head before leaving the duo alone. Enjolras massaged the back of Grantaire's neck tenderly as the drunkard drifted into an uneasy sleep. But the blissful rest would not come to the revolutionary. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Grantaire being torn from his arms by the people that had done this to him. He kept on having to open his eyes once again to make sure that his love was still resting in his arms. Grantaire slept softly with his head resting against Enjolras' heart. It seemed to slow beating calmed him and fixed him in the world of the living.

Enjolras noticed Grantaire frowning slightly and softly brushed his cheek with one eyebrow raised. "What are you thinking Taire?" he asked softly. Grantaire pointed to Enjolras' heart and tapped out the irregular rhythm of its beat on the table. Enjolras had always had a slightly irregular heartbeat; it hardly hindered him at all and it was just normal to him now. Enjolras nodded a little.

"I know. It's alright. Don't worry about me, or that. Just relax," he cooed softly to try and sooth Grantaire of his worry. This was not the time for Grantaire to be worrying about something as inconsequential as Enjolras' silly little heart problem. However Grantaire was not letting it drop easily. He tilted his head slightly as if to silently ask _why? _Enjolras shook his head to stop Grantaire worrying.

"It's always been like that. Don't you worry about me," he whispered but Grantaire was fixated on Enjolras' heart. It seemed worrying about his lover was distracting him from his own issues. Grantaire shook his head with another frown while prodding Enjolras' heart; he was not going to let this go.

"I've had it forever. Abnormal heart rhythm," Enjolras mumbled, not wanting to upset his lover any more than he was already. Grantaire just looked up at him cynically as if to say _and you think I would fall for that._Enjolras nodded a little again.

"Honestly, 'Taire. I've always had it, and that's all it is. Please don't worry about it," he practically begged. Grantaire squeezed his hand to encourage Enjolras to talk; the more Enjolras talked, the less they thought about the incident.

Enjolras sighed a little, unable to keep this desire from the suffering man. "My heart just beats off kilter. It doesn't usually hurt, but when it does it's a sharp kind of pain, but it's over very fast," he explained. Grantaire bit his lip and looked around; it looked like the drunkard was trying to find a way to say something. Suddenly he raised his trembling hands to his shoulders then brought them out in fists in front of his chest. Enjolras frowned, what was Grantaire doing? The other man repeated the movement before biting his lip again. Slowly he formed the letter J with his fingers; at first Enjolras assumed he was meaning Joly for medical attention but soon other letters followed E, H, A, N. Enjolras nodded and called out for Jehan. He didn't know why Grantaire suddenly wanted his best friend's company but he was not going to deny him this wish. Jehan darted in willing to do anything to help. "Enjolras what is it?" Jehan asked frantically as his eyes instantly darted to Grantaire.

"Grantaire can't talk and he asked me to call for you. I don't know why," Enjolras explained and Jehan nodded with tears in his eyes before perching on the edge of the table. Grantaire spotted Jehan and brightened. He brought his hand up in a fist with his little finger pointing up before shaking his head and moving two fists up and down again by his abdomen. And then brought a hand up too his mouth so his lips were touching the side of his index finger before moving it away and back again.

Enjolras had watched this entire exchange with confusion etched across his face but he was fascinated by how Jehan seemed to understand. Next he held out his index fingers and crossed them into an X shape before moving them apart. Grantaire pointing to Enjolras before the next move causing Enjolras' frown to deepen. He repeated moving his fists up and down by his abdomen while shaking his head then finished with moving his outstretched fingers in circles in front of him. Jehan nodded and turned to Enjolras. "He says he can't speak and you can't sign," Jehan smiled weakly when Enjolras just staring bemused back at him.

"Sign?" Enjolras asked quietly.

"Sign language is a method of communicating using only your hands. Each word or letter has a different sign," Jehan explained and chuckled at Enjolras gawping back at him.

"How do you two know this?" he muttered after a few moments of letting the shock sink in.

"My little sister was born deaf and my parents wanted to kill her for being different. Grantaire was living on his own at the time and we were best friends. He took the both of us in off the streets and cared for us when I was at my worst," Jehan mumbled, looking at the floor. "Grantaire knew a student at France's only school for deaf children. I managed to get Eliza a scholarship and all three of us learnt how to sign. Grantaire was always better at it than I was," Jehan explained and Enjolras nodded.

"When can I learn?" Enjolras asked bluntly. "If it is a way for R to communicate than I want to be able to do it," he stated with an unmatched determination that no one had seen his display apart from to do with the revolution. Grantaire reached up to touch Jehan's shoulder. Grantaire rubbed his hand in a circle on his chest before pinching his fingers together and moving them from his eyes outwards. Then he finally pointed at Enjolras with a pleading expression aimed at Jehan. "What is he saying?" Enjolras asked, he hated being left out of things.

"He said please teach him," Jehan sighed and looked down. "And I will, but it will take at long time and a lot of hard work for you to learn," he stated, making sure that Enjolras was really ready to do this.

"I am ready Jehan," Enjolras smiled weakly as he stroked Grantaire's hair.

"Let's start with the alphabet," Jehan sighed with a small smile as Grantaire buried his head in Enjolras' shirt, now content.


	5. Chapter 5

_**6/9/13**_

**If any of you are on facebook then go check out a page called Fandoms. I admin and am currently trying to build a Les Miserables following on there! Come join me ;) I'm Admin Grace, say hello!**

**Also we have a forum with a Les Mis section! fandoms . freeforums . net … I feel lonely there :(**

**Chapter 5**

It had been hours since Enjolras started his mission to learn sign language and the three men were still at it. Jehan had been slowly teaching Enjolras the whole alphabet with Grantaire interjecting occasionally with signs that Jehan translated and moving Enjolras' hands around to help. The prospect of having some way to talk to his love was raising Grantaire's spirits. He knew that after a traumatic experience most people sunk into a shell and didn't want to communicate. But Grantaire was different; he knew that if he didn't try and move on it would crush him … it had before. Every time he thought of the incident he felt his mind pound and his heart crack; despair tore him apart and he couldn't live like that anymore. His wine used to be his crutch; now the drunkard leant on Enjolras, metaphorically and physically. If Enjolras hadn't been there; then it was doubtful whether Grantaire would be there either. Enjolras was currently trying to spell out words to Jehan as the poet gently fed Grantaire a watery soup. Grantaire was still very, very weak and insecure so it was taking a lot of coaxing to get him to move and eat … and let go of Enjolras. Not once since Enjolras was allowed downstairs to help his lover, had Grantaire let go of his shirt. It was like he thought that Enjolras would guard over him but only if he had contact with the marble statue. Enjolras was getting fidgety underneath Grantaire; he needed to move.

When Grantaire eventually drifted into a troubled sleep, Enjolras took his chance. He pulled off his shirt to leave the soft material in Grantaire's iron grasp. Grantaire was gently removed from Enjolras' immobilised legs and the revolutionary could finally move once again. Enjolras didn't go far; he just walked round the room until he could feel his legs and picked up the book Combeferre had left out for him to entertain himself with. All the windows to the Corinth had been boarded up and the only illumination trickled through cracks in the boards. Everyone else was asleep and the only noise was the rush of the Seine racing under the nearby bridge. Bahorel and Courfeyrac had been out to test the waters and the National Guard were still hunting the revolutionaries. Muischetta had been found and taken to one of their other safe houses so the guard would neither hurt nor use her. It was all falling apart before his eyes and for once Enjolras didn't know what to do. He had never thought that they would live through a failed revolution; he expected to die … it was a haunting thought.

Grantaire woke up and panicked. He tried to pull himself closer to Enjolras but the shirt just came closer to him instead of the other way around. His eyes snapped open and a little squeak of shock shot past his tight lips. Enjolras was gone; they had taken Enjolras. He had to rescue Enjolras before they hurt him. Grantaire's mind raced and his heart thumped in his ears and nothing else mattered. He had to find Enjolras; he just had to. The shirt was crumpled in his iron grip as his only anchor to the revolutionary. The floor spun as he dropped from the table onto his agonisingly swollen feet. A small yelp of pain erupted from his lips as the dark fog clouded his vision. The drunkard felt soft, muscular arms around him but his only thought was still on Enjolras. No matter what this new figure said, he needed to find Enjolras. "Shush Taire, it's all going to be fine," the voice soothed and Grantiare could feel his weary body complying with the request. But his thoughts would not be quenched, Enjolras was his everything. "It's me. It's Enjolras, come back to bed R," the voice soothed and Grantaire's heart fluttered in joy while an audiable sigh of relief erupted from his split lips.

Grantaire rested his head gently on Enjolras' bare chest, still clutching the shirt in his trembling hands. Slowly he raised his hand and pointed to Enjolras before bringing both hands across his chest and moving them apart again to by his shoulders. _You safe_; Enjolras smiled slightly that he could understand but his heart wrenched painfully. Enjolras softly moved Grantaire's head away from his chest and stroked his broken lover's cheek. He rubbed his fist in a circle over his heart to say sorry and helped Grantaire back onto their makeshift bed. He hadn't thought about how his movement would affect the fragile drunkard. He only thought of himself … and the revolution. Enjolras desperately wanted to break that habit. He reached for his discarded top but Grantiare cuddled it close and curled up leaning on his exposed torso. "Okay you can keep it then," Enjolras smiled slightly as cuddled the soft fabric up to his chin. Grantaire pressed his hand on his chest through the fabric with a smug smirk. _Mine; _he signed and Enjolras resigned himself, with a shrug, to the loss of a shirt. He was never getting it back. Grantaire did have a habit of stealing and wearing his lover's clothes; not that he minded … it was sweet to see Grantaire in one of his jackets.

About quarter of an hour later, Combeferre pushed the door to the private room open slightly to check on his patient. Enjolras and Grantaire were both fast asleep with Enjolras laid on his back and Grantaire curled up like a satisfied cat on his lover's chest. Enjolras' worn favourite red shirt was clenched to Grantaire's chest like a children's soft toy. Combeferre hated himself for having to disturb the blissful duo but he could see the blood droplets on Grantaire's bandages and they really needed changing before he did himself more harm. So eventually Combeferre rapped his knuckles on the open door, jolting Enjolras out of his deep sleep. Enjolras smiled tenderly at him as the doctor pushed the door open further. "Wake up Taire," Enjolras whispered soothingly. This was a side of Enjolras not many people knew he possessed; Enjolras was a good man capable of being terrible but people seemed to forget his was human inside. Grantaire awoke slowly and smiled up slightly at Enjolras. Combeferre quickly changed Grantaire's bandages; the drunkard would never be the same again. But he was well on the way to recovery.

However everything changed later that day. Enjolras and Grantaire were practicing sign language again when the noise outside reached its climax. Doors slamming and raised voices distracted Enjolras and he could no longer focus on Grantaire's hands. The slightly irritated drunkard sighed and swatted Enjolras away. "Thank you!" Enjolras shouted jumping off his chair and running to the doorway, leaving it open so Grantaire could hear what was happening.

"Jolras!" Courfeyrac shouted, bouncing on his feet giddily as Enjolras appeared in the doorway.

"What's all this about?" he asked, taking everyone else's smiles in.

"The people have risen! It's a revolution!"


	6. Chapter 6

_**7/10/13**_

**Sorry for the long wait guys, I really am. It is just school, and work, and riding, and sleep … *sigh* hope you enjoy this anyway. Sorry it is**

**Chapter 6**

Both Grantaire and Enjolras froze in shock. It couldn't be happening; the people were rising at last. A grin spread across Enjolras' face as he turned back to a cautious Grantaire. Everyone was calmly excited apart from Grantaire and Jehan. Grantaire had visibly paled at the mention of revolution and Jehan was sat with tears in his eyes. "That's great," Enjolras smiled with an almost child-like glee.  
"Is it?" Jehan asked cautiously, nestling closer to Courfeyrac in worry. "People died Enjolras! And look what happened to Taire! What if that happens again, what if more of you die or get hurt?" Jehan exclaimed with tear gathering in his eyes as they peered through the open doorway at a frighteningly pale, shaking Grantaire. Enjolras looked around him and attempted to gauge the reactions of his friends with a more subdued attitude. Joly and Bossuet were squeezing each other's hands tightly and subconsciously shuffling closer to each other in comfort. Combeferre had paused from looking over Jehan's injuries when the announcement was made and was staring at Enjolras with a steely determination. Combeferre knew what needed to be done and Enjolras knew his brother would always stand by him. Or not, if that was what the circumstance called for. Jehan was shaking with tears slowly rolling down his rosy cheeks despite Courfeyrac's best attempts to sooth his friend. Courfeyrac looked up at Enjolras with a fiery rage roaring in his brown eyes. He would fight, for freedom ... And revenge. There were only six of them that could fight. But the people had risen, this time they would succeed.

Grantaire hadn't walked since the incident. His feet were burnt, torn and bruised; but mostly it was that he hadn't needed to move. Combeferre, Jehan and Enjolras had tended to his every whim. But now he needed to. Enjolras was going to do something stupid; he was going to join that stupid revolution again and get himself killed. No one would stop him; Grantaire had to. The world swung around him in a painful cycle as he moved inch by inch. Finally he was sat upright and his legs were dangling over the edge of the table. Pain roared through his whole body as his tender feet; each cut felt like an individual fire burning through his sole. Each step was as if he was climbing a mountain but Enjolras had to be stopped; Enjolras had to be saved. "Grantaire what are you doing?" Jehan screamed, crossing the room within seconds to support his trembling best friend. He had to get to Enjolras, no matter what. Enjolras reached Grantaire before Jehan managed to and carefully balanced Grantaire on his hip. However, Grantaire was having none of it. His hands moved frantically and he tried to pull Enjolras back into the room.

Enjolras knew what he wanted. "R, I have to go. I have to go fight," he whispered, kissing Grantaire's forehead softly. Grantaire shook his head desperately and continued tugging on Enjolras' arm. Tears silently poured down his cheeks while his whole body shook violently. Jehan helped Enjolras carry Grantaire back to his bed as the energy poured out of their friend and he fell fast asleep. Salty tracks dried on his cheeks as they laid him down. "I have to go," Enjolras murmured to no one in particular.

"Go Enjolras, the revolution needs its golden leader," Jehan whispered. "I'll stay with R," he added as reassurance. There was no way the poet was leaving his injured best friend alone.

"Thank you, Jean," Enjolras smiled weakly and left the room.

"Combeferre, will you stay with Jehan and Taire. I need to know he is safe," Enjolras asked his lifelong friend and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Combeferre agreed.

"I will keep them safe brother," Combeferre replied, hugging Enjolras and retired to the medical room. Enjolras turned to address the rest of the group.

"You don't have to fight with the people, I will think no less of you. There will always be a place here for you whether you fight or not," Enjolras spoke out but Bossuet, Joly and Courfeyrac were already sat preparing the guns.

"We'll always be behind you Enjolras," Courfeyrac smiled, patting Enjolras on the back and passing him a gun. "For freedom," he whispered and Enjolras smiled weakly.

XXX

Grantaire was healing slowly. Enjolras, Joly, Bossuet and Courfeyrac had left two days ago and Grantaire had sunk into a pit of depression. The scars on his chest were not infected and no longer pained him; plus his feet were healed up but still slightly tender. He just sat staring out of one of the cracks in the boarded up windows. All was silent. Jehan and Combeferre didn't want to disturb Grantaire's pre-emptive mourning. They all knew that all their four friends would not come home; they just all prayed that some of them would. It was later that night the silence was broken. Thumping of feet outside woke Grantaire from his dreamless sleep. Jehan was resting and Combeferre was out buying supplies so he was alone for the first time since the incident. The moonlight stone onto the worn cobbles and four figures skidded to a stop outside the Corinth, where Grantaire was peering out of the window. "Give it up child," one of the larger figures hissed as he stepped towards his target. "You can't run forever," he chuckled as the boy was pushed into the corner. There was a gun on the table next to Grantaire. Its silver metal taunted him as it glistened in the moonlight. He could go out there and save the stranger; but what was the point anymore. Enjolras was probably dead and he had nothing to live for anymore. The gun felt cool and unwelcoming in his hands as Grantaire listened to the National Guard outside. The guard's did certainly enjoy playing with their prey. "You will never quench the fire burning in the souls of every man, woman and child!" their prisoner cried out; Grantaire's heart stopped. It was Enjolras. They had caught Enjolras


End file.
